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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599196">In The Throes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/puptart/pseuds/puptart'>puptart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Zombies Run!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Female Runner Five, Grinding, I avoid gendering her where possible but she is written with her gender in mind, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season 5 Spoilers, Sparring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:28:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/puptart/pseuds/puptart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes Place During Season 5 BEWARE SPOILERS</p><p>You've been a runner for so long that that's all you think of yourself as. A pair of legs with a lot of enemies. It has been years since anyone made you remember the rest of your body, the rest of your needs. Sparring with Tom has brought it all to the forefront of your mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom De Luca/Runner Five</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Off Your Feet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I totally forgot I wrote this like, a month and a half ago until someone on Tumblr liked it. So I've edited it a bit now to make sure it's nice and pretty, and while I was doing that... Well, the feelings got me. Chapter 2 coming soon to a theatre near you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You always get this weird feeling around Tom. </p><p>Not because of the ‘crazy’ thing, God knows you’ve had your own fair share of mental breaks, and you <em>regularly </em>hear the voice of a megalomaniac in  your head. It’s not really because of the outright murder thing either, which… Well, you were pretty damn close to Sara, and even if she kept her cards close to her chest there’s no hiding that she could be pretty damn ruthless when needed. Besides, between you and Tom, you’d bet your hands bear the most blood.</p><p>The thing with Tom is that you actually really, really like him. He’s an odd duck, there’s no getting around that, but he doesn’t scare you. Janine still has her reservations about him and seems uncertain over letting him have the run of Noah base, but he’s adjusted remarkably well in the time he’s been here. Half the time he has this far off look on  his face, like he’s wondering whether he might be in a dream; Noah base is undoubtedly much better than the hell he’s been living through since well before the apocalypse.</p><p>Janine disapproves, but you started training with Tom anyways,  the very same day you all moved into the base. You’ve seen how the man moves, how he thinks, how he fights, and you miss sparring with someone you can’t keep up with. Tom was pretty uncertain of it too when you first brought it up to him, no doubt worried about hurting you if he starts to slip. </p><p>“Hand to hand,” you had suggested. He wavered over it, because you both know he wouldn’t <em>need </em>a weapon to kill you, but you’re far sturdier than you look after Van Ark’s treatment.</p><p>So he had agreed, and you began to meet up every day in the fitness room to train. You are <em>rusty</em>, and he hasn’t shown to be any more merciful on you than Sara was when she was teaching you how to throw a punch. Maxine saw quite a bit of you that first week, and Tom was always quite the gentleman when he accompanied you to the clinic. </p><p>Sparring with Tom is completely invigorating, in ways that little else is anymore. </p><p>He stands in front of you now, entirely at ease in the thin padded mats beneath your feet. The shirt he’s wearing is loose, though his frame isn’t as gaunt as it had been when you got him out of Abel, or even when you’d first met him. From what you can tell, he’s just naturally a lean man, and not for the first time you find yourself admiring him. </p><p>Sparring with Tom makes you feel alive and strong. It grounds you, and gives you something to reach for. It reminds you that you’re human enough to need to improve yourself. <em>Looking</em> at him though, that reminds an entirely different part of you of things you also haven’t felt in ages. </p><p>Sometimes you forget about your own needs and urges, too caught up in being Runner Five to think about it. Tom smiles at you, making your heart pitter-patter weakly. With effort, you push those thoughts aside. It always makes you sloppier when you’re not fully focused on the fight, and with Tom as your opponent  you <em>need </em>to be  on your A game. </p><p>“Ready?” Tom asks, despite making no show of readying himself. You ground yourself, legs apart, and hands poised and ready to attack (or more likely, to defend). </p><p>“Ready,” you say. The word is barely out of your mouth before he’s on you, and you have to fight for every second that you manage to stay on your feet.</p><p>When the two of you first started training together, you’d been put on the ground every single match within moments of them starting. It had taken weeks for you to even land more than a glancing blow against him, and longer still to actually <em>beat </em>him. Getting your ass handed to you by Tom had been a hefty blow to your ego after years of being the best of the best in Abel, and it had served as a strong reminder that you spend a lot more time running from problems than hitting them. </p><p>Your back hits the mats for the third time today, knocking the wind right out of your lungs. Gasping for breath, you roll to your side as a wave of nausea passes over you. Tom backs off immediately, hovering at a distance, his fingers flexing at his sides.</p><p>“I’m alright,” you croak, and that’s when he approaches, squatting down in front of you with his elbows resting against his knees. The nausea passes quickly, and you catch your breath. There’s no lingering pain anywhere, so you think you’re good to go again. </p><p>“You’re off in your head,” he says, a smile on his face that says he knows the feeling. You shrug.</p><p>“That just means more wins for you today.”</p><p>Tom laughs. “Perhaps so. I think I’d rather see what you can really do.”</p><p>“You <em>know </em>what I can really do,” you say. You’ve spent every spare moment sparring with the man for weeks at this point, you have no idea how you could possibly have anything new to show him. </p><p>Tom stands, the movement of all his long limbs as fluid as a cat, and offers you a hand up, which you accept. Despite his lean frame, he pulls you up with little effort.</p><p>“Five, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s always something more to a person than anyone thinks.”</p><p>His hand around yours is suddenly like a hot iron, but you can’t let go, too trapped in his warm gaze. It is certainly true that there’s a lot more to Tom de Luca than you’d realized when you first met him. Maybe there’s more in you than you know too.</p><p>“Alright. Let’s go again then,” you say, readying yourself again. That’s a thought that you’d rather not inspect too closely yet. Tom smiles a quiet smile.</p><p>This time, you don’t wait for him to ask if you’re ready before snapping your leg up at his head. He dodges back, letting out a small laugh. </p><p>“That’s what I mean,” he says, delighted, and surges in with a fist. You parry, waiting for the second fist you know is coming and slap a palm against his wrist to stop it. Fingers gripping it in a tight vice, you attempt to use it to put him in a hold, but his foot meets your gut and shoves you several feet back. The feeling of nausea from before makes a brief re-appearance, just long enough to give Tom the opportunity to rush you again before you’ve recovered.</p><p>You’re learning his patterns, slowly but surely. Before you’d thought he had none, but they’re there if one knows what to look for. </p><p>Tom throws a flurry of blows at you, so fast that you only block most of them as he aims at your head, armpits, sternum, and throat. He catches you hard in the ribs once, but you get him back the same way, the strike pulsing against your wrapped knuckles. </p><p>Again he throws a punch you’re ready for, and you grab his wrist once more, but this time you try something you’d never quite gotten right when learning to fight with Sara. You take the wrist in both hands and slide towards Tom, pivoting your body at the last moment and using your body to throw him over your shoulder.</p><p>Shockingly, it works. Tom goes flying over you and is sent sprawling against the mat with a hard <em>oof</em>. Your body reacts while your mind is still trying to wrap around the fact that that maneuver actually worked. On autopilot, you throw yourself on top of him, knees on either side of his hips to start grappling. He’s quick on the uptake though, fighting back against every hold you try, the two of you rolling and thrashing against the mats as you fight for the win. Eventually, you manage to get back on top and pin him well enough that he says, “Uncle.”</p><p>You release him, bodies still tangled wildly on the mats, and let out a tired, triumphant whoop of joy.</p><p>“I got you,” you say with a grin. He chuckles, face red from exertion. Or at least, you thought it was exertion, but as the two of you shift… You feel something firm brush against your rear end.</p><p>Tom goes sheepish at the realization on your face. “Sorry--”</p><p>“No,” you say quickly, heart racing all over again. “No, it’s fine.”</p><p>For a long moment, neither of you says a word, the air filled with nothing but heavy breathing as you both catch your breath. That doesn’t exactly help, but neither does the experimental shift of your hips against him that drags a ragged gasp from his throat.</p><p>“Is that okay?” you ask, because shit, you can’t just hump the guy out of nowhere, no matter how hot you think he is. </p><p>Tom answers by getting an elbow under him and leaning up for a kiss. His mouth meets yours more gently than you’d anticipated, so careful you think he’s expecting you to jerk away. When you don’t, and instead lean into it, he gets his free arm around you, pulling you against him. A deep groan rumbles in his chest as you kiss, and you’re pressed so tight together you feel it in your bones. </p><p>His lips are warm and pliant, and a little clumsy, but you’re sure you’re no better after so much time without the simple pleasure of a kiss. Long fingers stroke up your back, the motion stilted at first before Tom remembers how to do this. Tentatively, you run your tongue along his lower lip, and he parts his mouth for you for a deeper, wetter kiss. </p><p>Deep hunger strikes through you, and you shift your hips again, Tom’s noise in response muffled by your kiss. This time, he shifts right back against you. One slender hand skims over the slope of your ass and tugs at your hips until you shift down his body, and he maneuvers one of his legs between yours to apply a little pressure where you want it most.</p><p>“Ah, fuck,” you hiss, vision going hazy. It has been <em>way </em>too long since you’ve done this.</p><p>“Still alright?” Tom asks, an edge to his voice that makes you kiss him again. He makes a noise into it, a little surprised and a lot needy. You bet it’s been even longer since he’s done anything like this. When was the last time someone touched him with no other purpose but to make him feel <em>good?</em> That thought spurs you to slide a hand up his shirt. As your fingers slip under the hem, he stops you with a gentle but unyielding grip on your wrist. He murmurs, “No, not under.”</p><p>Nodding, you try touching him over his shirt instead, dragging your palm over his firm stomach. That he seems to like much better, eyelids fluttering as he leans up to mouth at your jaw. The scrape of stubble sends a shiver down your spine and your hips jerk against his thigh. He sucks in a breath at the movement, hands skimming down your back to cup your ass. There’s no tug or grip to it, but you know what he wants. </p><p>“How’s this?” you ask, giving a slow, deliberate roll of your hips. The pressure on your core is <em>incredible</em>, as is the sensation of his cock twitching against your thigh. </p><p>“Yes. Yes, yes, it’s good,” he says, almost babbling. He does that sometimes, the babbling. Never in this context before. It’s quite endearing. There’s a small part of you that hopes he’ll start reciting poetry again.</p><p>You start a steady pace of motion and pressure, nice and slow given how sensitive and tense you both are about it. The slick in your underwear that’s steadily growing makes it easier, makes the friction <em>better</em>, and you can’t help the noises coming from you. His hands on you tighten, groaning so soft you almost miss it. It’s a sweet sound and you can’t resist cupping his cheek against your palm. </p><p>The look he gives you is the same dreamy one he wears around the base sometimes, and the way he clutches at you makes you think he’s holding so tight in case he wakes up, so he can bring you with him. Your breath catches in your throat at that thought. It’s not one you’re ready to examine too closely, it’s not the right time, so you push it away with all the others… for now. </p><p>It’s even easier to dismiss all thoughts from your mind when he starts rocking up against you in time with your own motions. The feeling of it steals all higher brain functions, sending everything straight down between your legs. It builds inside of you, your pulse turning into a dull roar in your ear that drowns out the hushed sounds of shifting fabric and gasped breaths. </p><p>When he comes, hard and keening and fingers digging bruises into your skin, it surprises you. You’d expected him to last longer, though you don’t have a good excuse for that assumption, but the emotion it stirs inside you is a surprise as well. With his head thrown back in ecstasy, looking more <em>happy </em>or maybe content than he ever has around you, you think Tom is beautiful. </p><p>You plant your hands on either side of his chest and bend to kiss him again, a thrumming in your bones at the realization that <em>you </em>helped put that look on his face. You helped loosen the tension riddling his body. And you want to do it again. </p><p>Eventually, he’s smiling too much to make kissing easy, so you pull back only to find you’re smiling as well.</p><p>“I haven’t done that in at least a decade,” Tom says. You blink in surprise.</p><p>“Had sex?”</p><p>“Come in my pants,” he corrects wryly. “And speaking of, turnabout is fair play I think.”</p><p>You grin sharply, desire settling deep in your bones. “Go on.”</p><p>His hands stay over your clothes, the way he’d wanted you to for him, but it hardly dulls a thing. You’re glad of it really, that layer between you that keeps things from getting too intense too fast. Not that you aren’t already nearing a precipice, the persistent throb between your legs drawing all of your attention, but this is almost more than you can handle as it. You don’t even know what you’d do with yourself if you could feel his hands against bare skin. </p><p>The strong and gentle touch as Tom roams your body scrubs at your peripheral, putting everything out of focus besides him and you. His hands slide over your chest, thumbs skimming over where your nipples are, down over your stomach and sides. He grabs your ass again, a look on his face that tells you exactly how much he enjoys doing that. One hand stays there, while the other slides over and under your thigh, between your legs. </p><p>“You’re so warm,” he says, so low it’s almost a whisper. You wet your lips and tilt your hips against his palm. It’s an awkward position for his wrist, you can see that much, but he holds it for a few moments more as you bite down on your lower lip, chasing your pleasure against the meat of his palm. He has to move eventually though, rotating his hand so it’s his thumb against your clit instead. You miss the even pressure across all of you, so you hope you can try this again with him, maybe when you’re standing. </p><p>As it is, his thumb is very, <em>very </em>clever, so you don’t miss the rest of his hand for long. </p><p>“Fuck,” you choke out, hips stilling now to give him control. Despite the clumsiness you’ve both shown, Tom clearly hasn’t forgotten how to do <em>this </em>at all. Your fingers curl, finding no purchase against the slick mats covering the floor beneath your bodies. Bending forward you let out a sharp, “Ah, <em>ah!</em>”</p><p>“Are you close?” he asks, eyes never leaving your face. God, you almost can’t meet his gaze, but you’re equally unable to look away. You nod, jaw loose. “Good, good. That’s very good.”</p><p>Cheeks burning at his words, you start to shake, and it only takes a moment more before you curl forward over him, keening loud enough to echo as your orgasm hits. It pulses like a beating drum between your legs, reverberating through your bones all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes and through the back of your skull. He kisses you, wet and lush and you lose all coherency as you ride it out. </p><p>It almost feels like waking up when it passes, and you find yourself panting with your forehead pressed to his. He’s grinning. Not the manic grin you’d first known on him, but the grin that’s really <em>him</em>. This is Tom de Luca looking up at you, and you think you detect a hint of pride in those warm brown eyes.</p><p>“I expect dinner first next time,” you say. He laughs in a way that you feel more than hear. </p><p>“I believe you started this.”</p><p>“Nuh uh, you’re the one who got a boner over a little wrestling match.”</p><p>“A distraction technique from my days in MI6,” he replies, tone and expression completely serious in a way that makes you straighten up to laugh. His hands rest easy on your thighs, and he has an easy, pleased-with-himself sparkle in his eye. </p><p>On weak knees, you push yourself upright, and help him up the way he had done for you earlier. He stretches, all long limbs and tawny skin. </p><p>“I would say we should keep going but…” You gesture at the fairly noticeable wet spot at the front of his tracksuit bottoms. He gestures to your lap as well, and alright. Fair enough.</p><p>“We can try again tomorrow,” he says, a touch hopeful. </p><p>“Definitely.” With a grin, you add, “Maybe the wrestling can wait for a bed this time.”</p><p>He gives you a mysterious smile then, and both of you head for the door. By unspoken agreement, you take the path that <em>doesn’t </em>go past Janine’s room. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. For A Loop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Things can't just be easy with Tom De Luca.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Have you seen Tom?” you ask, foot tapping as you brace your hands on the doorframe. Sam looks up from the laptop he’s been tapping at (i.e. using as an excuse to ignore you hovering in his doorway for the past solid minute) with a tired look.</p>
<p>“Five, I promise. I <em>promise</em>. I will tell you if I see him,” he says. You wrinkle your nose in offense.</p>
<p>“I’ve only asked once today.”</p>
<p>“And three times yesterday, and ten times the day before, and--”</p>
<p>“No! No, I did <em>not</em>, Sam Yao.” You march into the room to give him a thump for exaggerating. Though Sam Yao has never gotten the hang of roughhousing with his runners, he’s certainly gotten good at evading them. With a yelp he kicks back, sending his chair rolling backward and out of your reach swiftly enough that he’s able to grab a pillow from his bed to act as a shield.</p>
<p>“I’m kidding!”</p>
<p>“Oh yes, so am I,” you say, snatching the pillow and giving him a good whack with it. He sputters and tries to take it away, but you’ve just found a great outlet for all your pent up energy. Sam squawks as he flails, blocking as best as he can while you do your best to knock him out the chair.</p>
<p>“Okay, okay. Hey! Break it up you two.” A new voice calls sternly from the doorway. You pause, pillow poised for a kill strike, Sam cowering in a fetal position on the chilly concrete floor. Maxine shakes her head, sending her kinky curls bouncing. “Enough, Five. I need him in one piece.”</p>
<p>“Maxie!” Sam exclaim, scrambling to his feet to hide behind her. “Thank God, my turn with Sara?”</p>
<p>“It is, yes. I’ll take over camera duty.” Maxine rolls her eyes fondly as Sam pecks her on the cheek before beating a hasty retreat, and you quickly throw the pillow back into place. She eyes you. “You’re feistier than usual lately.”</p>
<p>“Am I?” you ask, blinking innocently. She rolls her eyes again, though not nearly as nicely as she had for Sam.</p>
<p>“Have you asked <em>Janine</em> where Tom is?” Maxine asks. You purse your lips. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, but…</p>
<p>“Kind of a touchy topic, isn’t he?” You try to pretend you don’t feel like a big coward about it. With a flick of your ponytail over your shoulder, you give a careless shrug. “It’s fine anyway, I can just ask Peter to spar with me.”</p>
<p>You like sparring with Peter. He seems to enjoy having his ass kicked ten ways to Tuesday.</p>
<p>“Uh huh, because <em>that’s </em>why you’ve been asking about him,” Maxine says, quirking a smile. </p>
<p>“Jeez, you’re worse than Sam,” you say with a scoff. “Gossips, both of you.”</p>
<p>The fact that what they’re gossiping about is <em>true </em>has no bearing on the situation, of course, and you stride out of the room holding your chin up high before she can ask you any questions about your sudden investment in Tom’s whereabouts. Thankfully, she doesn’t try to stop you.</p>
<p>Last week in the fitness room had been, in a word, <em>intense</em>. It’s not exactly every day that you knock a man down and grind on his cock until you’re both screaming like banshees. In fact you’ve never done anything like that ever. Everything about it was a bit different from anything you’d done before, and it’s those differences that have you clawing the walls trying to find Tom and figure out what is happening. </p>
<p>Of course, the very moment you started trying to find him to talk about it, he was suddenly just <em>gone</em>. No matter where you went looking you’ve managed to miss him, and no one has been able to give you so much as a hint as to where he might be. At best, you’ve been able to find eyewitness accounts of him eating dinner a few times, and that’s it. </p>
<p>Maybe it <em>is </em>time to find Janine and ask her. She’s the only person you haven’t interrogated to find Tom so far, and if there’s one person you think would be able to keep tabs on Tom when he’s avoiding everyone else, it’s her. </p>
<p>The risk with going to Janine though is the terrifying possibility she’ll take one look at you and figure out what you did with her baby brother though. Despite all her ‘if he looks at you wrong shoot him in the head’, you don’t really want to know if Janine has turned into a protective older sister now that Tom isn’t actively trying to kill anyone. Well, anyone who’s on your side, at least.</p>
<p>Plus, she’s got way, way bigger fish to fry than your sex life. There’s no way you can justify interrupting her work for something like that.</p>
<p>“Runner Five.”</p>
<p>You yelp, whirling around in an entirely undignified fashion to see Janine right behind you in the hallway.</p>
<p>“Where the hell did you even come from?!” you ask, bewildered. Her bedroom isn’t on this stretch of hallway, and you don’t know which bedroom she could’ve come from except-- You crane your neck to look around her to Peter’s room, but she slides in front of you to block your view.</p>
<p>“I heard you talking to Dr. Myers,” she says, crossing her arms. “You have something to ask me.”</p>
<p>You only barely hold in a comment on how much she looks like Tom when she’s wearing that sexy, intense gaze. Right down to the cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Just… You know, looking for Tom.” You scratch your cheek in faux casualness. “I haven't seen him around and I’m concerned.”</p>
<p>“He is fine, Runner Five.” Her jaw tightens. “Tom is very good at not being found unless he wants to be.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” you say, heart sinking at her words. He’s… <em>actually </em>avoidingyou? The thought had crossed your minds but...</p>
<p>It was good sex! You know it was good sex. His face and demeanor during and after told you that much, and he’d even talked like he was just as eager for a repeat as you! There was-- There was tenderness, or so you thought. </p>
<p>Your cheeks warm, embarrassed, and you hope Janine doesn’t notice.</p>
<p>Janine gives a curt nod, and you start to turn away to figure out how to deal with this realization, but she catches your elbow before you can get too far.</p>
<p>“Runner Five.” She pauses, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I would not encourage you to pursue this… relationship.”</p>
<p>“It’s not a relationship.”</p>
<p>“This pursuit <em>of </em>a relationship then.” The look in her eye is clearly torn, and you have no idea who the concern she feels is for.</p>
<p>“Right, of course.” You shake her off carefully. “We have other things to focus on.”</p>
<p>Though she doesn’t look like she believes you, she says, “I am glad we can agree, Runner Five.”</p>
<p>You manage a smile, then move away.</p>
<p>It’s fine. Today is your day to cook dinner for everyone, so you don’t really have time for Tom anyways. You straighten your back and head for the kitchen, determined to not be bothered. Getting your hopes up for anything more than that moment on the mats is foolish anyhow.</p>
<p>The world isn’t what it used to be, and you aren’t who you were then. When you think about your old name, your old identity, it’s like thinking of a friend you lost touch with. That person isn’t you anymore. Runner Five was just a designation when you landed outside of Abel, but after five years of it, you <em>are </em>Runner Five now. The only person who even remembers your old name is Janine, but by some miracle, she’s always known you don’t want it anymore. </p>
<p>This is better. Those feelings that stir inside of you when you see Tom are a terrible idea. It can’t be something you indulge yourself in now. Really, it was selfish of you to even consider spending your time chasing after a man when there’s so much else you should be doing instead. </p>
<p>You should leave sex and romance for other people. The fact that you have a difficult time swallowing and that your eyes burn as you clatter around the kitchen is just more proof that it’s better to stop this all now before it goes too far.</p>
<p>Dinner goes about as well as can be expected when it’s your turn to cook, and your foul mood has not improved the flavor of the meal. The far-too-polite expressions on everyone’s faces as they wander in to serve themselves is proof enough of that. No one complains to you though, and you choke your food down along with the rest of them, doing your best to ignore that Janine fills two bowls and that Tom doesn’t come in at all. </p>
<p>Peter manages to coax you into a game of cards after dinner, which Amelia joins in for, leading to a very cryptic and veiled conversation between the two of them that you only have half a mind to decipher. You lose spectacularly. Peter leans towards you between rounds.</p>
<p>“You really should know better than to play with her,” he says in a rather loud whisper that has Amelia preening. </p>
<p>You shrug. “I do know better.”</p>
<p>The look he gives you is far, far too knowing for your comfort. Amelia clears her throat, drawing your attention as she runs perfectly manicured nails through soft, wavy red tresses that wouldn’t have been out of place in a beauty pageant, once upon a time. </p>
<p>“Yes, well, shall we have another round then?” Her eyes gleam as they land on your wrist. “That watch is absolutely atrocious, but seeing as you haven’t got much else to barter…”</p>
<p>You click your tongue at her. “I might have bet with it if you hadn’t insulted it.”</p>
<p>With a sharp grin she says, “Very well, strip poker it is.”</p>
<p>“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Peter says with a grin, shifting in his seat. “If you wait just a few minutes I <em>know </em>I can talk a few more people into it.”</p>
<p>“If you can get Sam to come, I’ll give you…” Amelia eyes you with a flicker of suspicion. “That thing you traded me.”</p>
<p>“Which thing? There have been many things.”</p>
<p>“That thing we used after that little matter in Bristol.”</p>
<p>Peter’s eyebrows shoot up and he flashes onto his feet. “You’ve got a deal.”</p>
<p>He’s gone within the very next moment, shoes squeaking against the floor in his haste, leaving you and Amelia alone. With the ease of a cat lazing in a sunbeam, Amelia stretches out and leans her chair back on two legs. It must be nice, being her. </p>
<p>“You’re looking at me,” she singsongs.</p>
<p>“You’re looking at me, too,” you point out. </p>
<p>“Yes, but you’re <em>really </em>looking. See something you like?”</p>
<p>As backstabbing and self-serving as she is, you find yourself rolling your eyes with more fondness than ire. She preens and poses herself in alluring ways until it becomes clear you aren’t about to be overcome by lust and throw yourself across the table at her. With a flick of her long, silky hair she sighs.</p>
<p>“You’re terribly boring when you’re in a bad mood.”</p>
<p>“Who says I’m in a bad mood?”</p>
<p>“That sour little pout you keep wearing around.” She gestures to your mouth, then mimics what your face apparently looks like. “It’s very cute, actually.”</p>
<p>“I’m not <em>pouting</em>.”</p>
<p>“Oh come on, I’m sure it’s very disappointing to have someone you’ve slept with ghost you.” She tilts her head. “Not that I have experience with that.”</p>
<p>“What, disappointment, or being ghosted?” You shake your head. Then, when what she says absorbs in, you say, “Wait, who said anything about me sleeping with anyone?”</p>
<p>The look she levels at you reminds you that Amelia buys and sells secrets, literally making it her business to know everything she can about everyone. You haven’t been entirely subtle about trying to track Tom down either. Clearing your throat, you grab the deck of cards on the table and start shuffling. </p>
<p>“There’s no point in being all upset about it, you know. He’s not exactly all there anyway, is he?” Amelia goes on, producing a nail file to carefully shape her impractically long nails. You pretend not to hear her as you cut the deck, but Amelia’s never needed approval to carry on a conversation. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Myself, for one. I bet Lou would have a go whenever she gets back, too. Sam--”</p>
<p>“Stop,” you say sharply, slapping the deck against the table. Her eyebrow takes on an artful, questioning arch.</p>
<p>“He would though.”</p>
<p>“I <em>know that.</em>” Heat rises to your cheeks. “But I wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>Not again, anyways. </p>
<p>Amelia shrugs. “More for me.”</p>
<p>You give her a withering look. “Do not sexually harass him, or I <em>will </em>do something about it.”</p>
<p>“Ooh--”</p>
<p>“You will not like it.”</p>
<p>She regards you coolly, then nods, a faint trace of a smile around the corners of her mouth and what you think <em>might </em>be respect around her eyes. You’ll take it. Sam Yao might have been a rather ill-fated choice once upon a time, but he’s still one of your dearest friends. Much as you like Amelia, he deserves someone… softer. </p>
<p>It makes you wonder what kind of person <em>you </em>deserve, assuming you deserve anyone at all. Not a Sam. Not quite a Sara, nor a Jody, a Simon, or a Janine. Evan was closest, particularly after he stole that airplane (oh, how tempted you had been to fly off to a tropical island where you could forget this whole zombie apocalypse nonsense…) and you might even consider Steve, were it not for Kefilwe. </p>
<p>She also deserves better, in your opinion, but she seems to know it as well at least.</p>
<p>Rubbing your forehead, you decide that that’s enough speculation on potential partners. You already <em>know </em>who you want, and it’s pretty clear he isn’t as interested. There’s no point in obsessing on it.</p>
<p>“You could try me, you know,” Amelia says, batting her eyelashes. You snort. </p>
<p>“Tempting, but no.” You reach back to tighten your ponytail. “It’s better if I don’t split my focus right now. There are things that need my attention more than that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>Amelia gives a light huff, not appreciating being lumped in with ‘that sort of thing’. </p>
<p>“Suit yourself then.” She shakes her head. “Though you might want to start considering being a little more selfish in the future, Five. You can’t give everything to other people or there’s going to be nothing left.”</p>
<p>“I got Sam!” Peter bursts, entering the room with the man himself being tugged along behind him. “No Jody, but some of the others--”</p>
<p>“And that’s my cue to leave,” you say to Amelia. She makes no protest, though Peter does, as you slip down the hall to the stairwell that leads to your room. </p>
<p>Maybe Amelia is right after all. Not about sleeping with her being a good idea (you can only imagine that it would be glorious and <em>terrible)</em> nor about Tom being crazy. At least, her tone about it was all wrong. </p>
<p>She’s right about Tom ghosting you not being a big deal. You have bigger things to worry about than a crush on a boy, and really, it was a terrible idea to sleep with him in the first place. Insomuch as grinding on his fully clothed dick could be described as ‘sleeping with him’ anyways. </p>
<p>You do your best to convince yourself of this, to downplay what happened between you and Tom, what feelings might have been building even before that, to pretend you never had hopes (or daydreams) about anything more. Abel is in <em>danger</em>, you need to focus! Runner Five has to be at top performance at all times, now more than ever. This is a silly distraction. No more boys! </p>
<p>As you slip through the door that leads to the second floor, where your bedroom is, you give a firm nod to solidify the thought in your head. From now on, you will remain focused on your job as a protector. A provider. A.... whatever Janine currently needs you to be. Yes. </p>
<p>The further you walk down the hall, the more you come to realize there’s something off about your door. It looks like every other door-- bland grey, with a shiny number sticker on it-- but there’s something dark and shapeless around your doorknob. It makes you hesitate at first (a threat?) until you realize it seems to be some sort of fabric. You approach with caution.</p>
<p>Tied loosely around the doorknob is a pair of crew length socks, patterned with giraffes. You tug them loose and inspect them, but there is no note. No sign of who left them. When you glance down either end of the smooth concrete lined hallway, you see no one else. </p>
<p><em>Strange</em>.</p>
<p>Anyone could have left them there for you. You can think of at least three people who are likely off the top of your head. Sam, Maxine, Peter. Possibly Jody, though she seems more likely to give them to you in person, rather than leave them without any indication that she’s the gift giver. Of course, just because they are likely doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly who you <em>want </em>them to be from.</p>
<p>You run your thumb over the smooth, soft fabric. Good socks are worth more than gold these days. And you do like giraffes. Biting down on your lip to hide a smile no one can see anyways, you slip into your room, closing the door tight behind you so that you can safely sink back into fantasy, with no one else the wiser.</p>
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